


Blind Passion

by mellifluous (TpLoz)



Category: DBSK | Tohoshinki | TVfXQ | TVXQ
Genre: First Meetings, Fluff, Inspired by Blind Date, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pianist Shim Changmin, Singer Jung Yunho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-31
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:34:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25510657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TpLoz/pseuds/mellifluous
Summary: Changmin felt so happy to finally move to his dream city - Paris -, however, with the unexpected lockdown and an extremely noisy neighbour, the happy event becomes frustrating more than anything.Thankfully, he finds a silver lining.
Relationships: Jung Yunho/Shim Changmin
Kudos: 21
Collections: Director's Cut Fest





	Blind Passion

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by the French film, Blind Date!
> 
> The depiction of the COVID-19 lockdown in Paris, France is a little bit skewed for plot purposes.

_Paris, France. March, 2020._

When Changmin was in middle school, his teacher asked him what he wanted to do when he was older. As in, what career would he like, but Changmin had said:

“I want to live in Paris!”

His teacher loved his enthusiasm, but told him that wasn’t a career. Changmin, however, was not swayed and he insisted that living in Paris was his goal in life. 

He grew up loving France and dreaming about visiting. He excelled at music, and soon became a pianist that could rival some of the best in the world. He even had a manager. A manager who knew his dream very well and a few weeks ago had told Changmin that he had gotten him a job in Paris playing the piano. And, oh boy! Was Changmin excited!

They booked the flights, and Changmin found this beautiful French apartment that he had to live in for the 6 months! There was a balcony overlooking a park and he could easily fit a piano in it. His dream was finally being reached!

“Kyuhyun what do you mean I have to stay in France until the pandemic blows over!?” 

The moment had arrived. He’d flown into Charles de Guile airport, someone from the music company had driven him to his new apartment which was everything he had imagined and more! 

And then France shut down. 

The Coronavirus had been all the buzz back in South Korea, but as far as Changmin knew, France didn’t have it bad. He _never_ looks at the news and Kyuhyun knew this! Why did he let him leave!?

“It was sudden! I wasn’t paying attention to the news!”

Changmin groaned as he slammed his cup of coffee down on the counter, making it splosh about. “Kyuhyun! This is what I have you for! So, I don’t need to be worried about this stuff…” Changmin didn’t want to pout, but it was too late, he was pouting. Being in the city of your dreams was much less fun when you were stuck here against your will.

“Changmin, I’ll try to find some way to get you back to Seoul, I swear. But for now just… take this as a career break, okay?”

The call ended, but not without a bit more whining from Changmin. This was a _mess_. What was he supposed to do until Kyuhyun figured this out? Flights had been grounded for the time being, and there were only essential outings allowed for food and medicine.

But he had books, and his piano, and his laptop so, he could make the most of this, right?

* * *

He had just fallen asleep on the second night when he heard _it_. Someone was singing if he was hearing right. Maybe he was hallucinating. But on day two? already? That didn’t sound right.

“What the fuck…” muttered Changmin as he sat up in bed and turned on his bedside lamp. 

Yup. Someone was singing their heart out, a man by the sounds of it.

The sleep fog slowly lifted from his brain. Changmin was a quiet and polite guy. He usually spoke through his piano-playing, but within a matter of moments, he had some possibly vicious thoughts, because, well, he was a bit like a grumpy bear when tired. He must be woken with caution. _Not_ with obnoxiously loud singing. 

However, Changmin could appreciate the man’s lung capacity. 

… Even if it meant he only got half a nights sleep that night.

* * *

It was becoming a persistent problem. Changmin didn't mind at first, hell, the other man needed to keep his instrument in check. He needed to stay in practice. Changmin got it, but he really didn't appreciate it.

Night after night he was getting less and less sleep and it meant that Changmin had to try and sleep in the middle of the day which ate into his own practice time.

Changmin was trying to be patient but holy fuck was his patience running out. His meter of niceness was running dry and slowly but surely his mind began to imagine vindictive ways to retaliate.

Images of knocking down the wall between their apartment, of banging pots and pans together, of shouting in his own rusty singing voice.

But, the perfect form of retaliation popped into his mind halfway through a practice session one afternoon, he was always sure to be quiet as he could while he practised but maybe the time for manners was over, thrown out the window and smashed to smithereens by his neighbour.

Tonight, he would play his piano. However, instead of playing softly and just keeping his muscle memory in check, he would play with abandon. 

* * *

Changmin stretched his hands, as he waited for his neighbour to begin his singing. He lightly brushed his fingers against the keys of his piano. His heart was beating like crazy; the very same excitement that he felt before performances thrummed through him. Changmin realised how much he had missed this, and how this intervention of sorts felt like he was performing, but instead of having a huge crowd in front of him, there was only a handful of people who would hear him.

He silently apologised to anyone else who might hear. As far as Changmin knew though, there weren’t many other people living in this building.

The singing began, slowly and softly at first before gaining confidence and becoming louder. As the singer reached the beginning of the second chorus, Changmin began his own performance.

He got a bit carried away, playing the most energetic tune he could and becoming a man possessed by the music. His hair became messy, his crisp shirt crinkled, and his eyes crazed with the thrill of the music.

By the time Changmin stopped his playing, lightly clinking the last of the notes, there was not a sound heard from the man next door.

Changmin was satisfied not only by the fact that he had silenced his passionate neighbour, but also with his performance. Even if Changmin said so himself, it was a performance fit for the stage.

With a sigh of contentedness, Changmin stepped away from the piano and began to prepare himself for a full night’s sleep.

* * *

The silence kept for a few nights. Changmin blissfully slept like a baby for those nights, and the following days he felt well-rested and able to practise without that horrible sleep-deprived weight on his shoulders.

But, it didn’t last forever.

He was cooking his dinner when he heard it again, drifting through the walls like a poltergeist.

“Oh, no,” said Changmin, staring at the wall in horror, with dread dripping from his voice. 

He listened while he finished his cooking, and then, while he ate. It was more pleasant getting to listen to it earlier in the evening rather than at the dead of night. 

As he finished his last bite of food, something clicked in Changmin’s mind.

The man was singing the very same song that Changmin had played the other night. All the songs that this man had sung so far this evening, were songs that Changmin had practised during the past few days.

Changmin found his fingers itching to tickle the ivories, the call of a duet, a collaboration, too alluring to pass up.

The singing ended and Changmin waited at the piano keys with his fingers poised, as soon as he began to sing the next song Changmin would begin.

Like a dolphin breaking out from the surface of the ocean, the lyrics broke through the walls, urging Changmin to begin playing. His fingers flowed with ease as his mind sunk into the bliss of the performance, it was as if Changmin were under a spell and he never wanted it to end. He could count the number of performances that had felt like this on one hand, but he always sought this feeling when he played. And while the disappointment after, when he failed to reach that state of nirvana, never deterred him, it always hung heavy on his shoulders for days after.

The song drifted to a conclusion, but soon after another began.

The two continued like this for another few hours until after midnight. Changmin had found the partner of his dreams and yet, he never knew if they’d ever meet.

He fell into the soft cushioning embrace of his bed where he dreamt of a faceless man with the voice of an angel.

* * *

This coincidental arrangement continued much to Changmin’s delight. Around 8 pm every other evening, they’d begin their performance and their instruments would twine together.

But, Changmin had this impulsive and aching need to meet his mystery singer. The dreams of meeting him were vivid and always stuck in Changmin’s head throughout the day leaving him sighing at random intervals as his mind relived them. He hadn’t told Kyuhyun about the mystery man but his manager had noticed an uptick in his mood that definitely improved their phonecalls. 

Every time Changmin left the apartment to go shopping or go for a run, he had this burning hope that they’d bump into each other and _know_ , but it never happened. Changmin would even hang around on the balcony with a coffee or glass of wine in hand in hopes that his neighbour would pop out and Changmin would get to see what he looked like.

For all he knew though, the man could be in his late 50s, balding with a slight beard. Changmin chided himself whenever he tried to imagine him, but his hopeless romantic heart always clung onto the hope of finding love in France, no matter how unrealistic it was, or how unlikely. He assured himself by saying he was simply lonely, it was natural to crave companionship, especially during these lonely and scary times.

Changmin quickly gave up on the idea that they’d meet on their balconies as March cruised into April, Changmin having lost all semblance of time management and wondering how the time had flown away without him.

He sat on the balcony, overlooking the city of Paris with its harmonious and classical architecture. The sun was setting, casting a soft orange glow over the city and through the sky. He swirled the wine around in his glass before taking a sip, sighing as his muscles began to relax a little. His back, in particular, would get stiff and tense after spending so much time over the piano, even with his good posture.

Constantly, he had these inner monologues, where he’d explain in detail why it was okay to never meet the man next door.[elaborate]

“It’s nice to finally meet you, my piano man.”

Changmin stood up quickly, surprised by the sudden voice and splashing some of his wine onto his white shirt. He turned towards the voice to see a handsome fox-like Korean man smiling at him in amusement, a glass of wine in his hand.

_Oh._

His dreams had never supplied a face, but even if they did, they wouldn’t be able to get anywhere near the beauty of this man. Changmin felt enamoured at the very sight of him, and now, with a face to match the voice, he found himself speechless. The hundreds of questions fled his mind, scared away by the intimidatingly handsome man. Maybe a balding, scruffy 50-year-old would have been better, if only to have saved Changmin’s composure.

Changmin gave an abrupt nod, realising he had been staring for too long. 

“Y-yes. Me. I-I mean, yes, that’s me. Y-your piano man,” stuttered Changmin. He silently cursed his frozen tongue and mind for the awkward and bumbling response, although the man was at least partially to blame seeing as he used the possessive to describe Changmin. It would haunt Changmin later without a doubt. Echoes of ‘my piano man’ throughout his mind as he tries to drift off to sleep.

The fox-like man laughed and asked, switching to perfect Korean, “Does he have a name?”

“Changmin. And you?”

“Yunho.” He smiled as if the sound of Changmin’s name was music to his ears. “You’re very skilled on the piano. How long have you been playing for?”

Changmin blushed in the low, orange light, which was hopefully unnoticeable. “Ah, thank you. Hm.. about 20 years I think? You’re a beautiful singer.”

Yunho replied with a small quiver in his voice after biting his bottom lip between his teeth, “Thanks. Although probably not at 3 in the morning, huh? Sorry for waking you a lot… I assumed no one lived in your apartment and because of the jet lag I couldn’t sleep and sometimes singing helps make me sleepy.”

“Oh, so you came from Korea and got stuck here?” Changmin inquired, the coincidence astounding him.

“Yeah, I was about to take part in a big music performance here before the country got locked down.” 

“Same for me actually.”

“I have to say, I’m glad you got stuck here, even though that sounds bad. It’s been nice having someone to practice and perform with.”

“Maybe we could discuss setlists, as ridiculous as that sounds, but that way I could play the proper introductions and we might get more from our practices.”

They discussed music and their own disciplines for a while more until the sun finished setting and the only light they had was from the streetlights down below them and the vague light leaking from their own respective apartments.

Changmin felt reluctant to leave, having, at last, found someone he could talk with. But, they did have plans to talk again tomorrow so it’s not like he won’t see Yunho again. Speaking of the man, he also seemed reluctant to leave Changmin’s company which warmed the pianist’s heart considerably.

Eventually, Changmin’s mind grew weary and Yunho’s speech slurred from exhaustion. While their days weren’t filled to the brim with practice, the stresses of quarantine took their toll. 

They both seemed to realise at the same time that they were too tired to continue talking, even though they talked for hours with ease, there’s always a line to be drawn.

With a sigh, Yunho held up his near-empty glass to Changmin who followed suit with his own, and said, “Here’s to many more wonderful unofficial performances.” They knocked the last drops of wine back, sending each other pleasant, tipsy smiles. 

“Goodnight Yunho.”

“Goodnight Changmin.” 

  
  



End file.
